The Spaghetti Bath
by bmj97
Summary: One shot of five-year-old Jace getting a spaghetti bath for his birthday.


The demon stood tall in front of the tiny boy, its red eyes gleaming and saliva dripping from its wide mouth. It had long, sharp claws held out in front of him, ready to strike the child at any moment.

The little boy looked up at the demon, no trace of any fear were in his eyes, only determination, and he held a dagger in his left hand, ready to swipe the demon's head right off its shoulders...

"Jonathan!"

His father's sharp voice interrupted his little game, bringing him back to reality. The "demon" turning back into the small dogwood tree that sat in the yard and his "dagger" into a stick. He frowned, he had really been enjoying his play.

"Jonathan!" His father, who was standing impatiently at the door, called again. The little boy raced towards him.

"I was practicing my fighting," he said, waving the stick in the air.

Valentine took the stick and threw it back into the yard. "Foolish. Come in and eat your dinner, boy."

Jonathan followed him quietly into the house, and into the dining room, where two plates of steaming spaghetti sat on the table. His stomach rumbled at the sight of the food, playing pretend made him hungry.

He climbed into his usual chair, the one that had three thick books in its seat, for he was so small his chin barely reached the tabletop without them. Valentine sat in front of him on the opposite side.

Jonathan dug into his spaghetti, stuffing his mouth continuously.

"Slow down," Valentine told him, and he did.

"You do know what tomorrow is, yes?"

"Yes, Father, it's my birthday." Jonathan felt a stab of excitement go through him. He liked birthdays.

"Have you thought about what you wanted?"

"Hmm." He hadn't really. He had been asked the same question the week before, and when he said he had no clue, his father told him he had until the eve of his birthday to decide. It had slipped from his mind, and now tomorrow was his birthday, and he still didn't know what he wanted.

He twirled a bit of spaghetti into his fork, and held it up, examining it. "I don't know, Father."

Valentine frowned. "You've had plenty of time to decide. If you haven't by the time you're in bed tonight, you won't be getting anything this year."

Jonathan solemnly nodded.

All through the rest of dinner, he thought and thought but nothing came to his mind. He was beggining to become a bit panicky. What was a birthday without a present?

The time of his bath came and he was _still _thinking.

Finally, his idea came while he stood waiting on his father's servant, Naya, to draw his bath water.

He ran into the sitting room, where Valentine sat in the loveseat reading a thick book in his lap.

He looked up from the book when he saw the boy. "Jonathan, aren't you supposed to be taking your bath?"

"I'm sorry, Father, but I know what I want for tomorrow," Jonathan said eagerly. "A spaghetti bath! The tub filled with pasta. Please, Father?"

Valentine raised an eyebrow. "Very well, if that's what you want."

Jonathan nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Thank you, Father!"

The rest of the evening was a happy one, he was pleased he had thought of such a good birthday present, and was excited to get it.

The next morning, he was awoken by the bright sunlight streaming through his bedroom window. He hurried out of bed and dressed himself, befoer heading downstairs.

The kitchen was full of the smell of pancakes. His favorite breakfast.

"Good morning, Jonathan," his father sat at the table, already half finished with his plate of pancakes. "And happy birthday."

Jonathan climbed into his chair, looking down hungrily at the pancakes, which was filled with blueberries and drenched in syrup, just the way he liked them.

He ate them slowly, savoring their taste.

"Can I have my spaghetti bath now?" he asked once he was done.

Valentine shook his head. "Patience, now."

The morning dragged on, and noon came, and then the afternoon. To Jonathan, it was the longest day of his life. All he wanted was to take his spaghetti bath. A part of him feared that his father had changed his mind, or decided that his request was too silly.

Dinnertime came. To his dismay, they had chili, which he didn't really like. But it was soon forgotten when Naya bought out a small chocolate cake that held five candles on the top and sat it in front of him.

"Make a wish." Valentine smiled one of his rare smiles.

_I wish I could have my spaghetti bath_, Jonathan thought before blowing the candles out.

He could eat as much of the cake, which he discovered had ice cream in the center of when his father cut it, as he wanted. He ended up eating nearly half, saving the rest for the next day.

"Come on now," his father said once he was done eating.

He followed Valentine, who paused at the door, to the bathroom.

"Enjoy," he said, before pushing the door open.

Jonathan walked in, nearly shouting in delight when he saw that the bathtub was filled to the brim with nothing but water and pasta noodles.

He stripped, not hesitating to jump into the bath.

The water was warm and the noodles felt odd all around him, slipping through his fingers and tickling the bottom of his feet. He couldn't help but laugh.

He loved his spaghetti bath.


End file.
